


Fate

by jjscm, MissGeorgieTate



Category: Emmerdale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-05
Updated: 2019-05-27
Packaged: 2019-08-19 06:33:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 15,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16529291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jjscm/pseuds/jjscm, https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissGeorgieTate/pseuds/MissGeorgieTate
Summary: An old-school fic showing how the Tate dynasty came to be.





	1. Chapter 1

_1982_

Kim climbed up the stairs to the office of Tate Haulage and Son. It was one of the tallest buildings in Skipdale, with a huge haulage yard out back.

She’d known, walking down these steps after her interview, that she had secured a job here. Chris Tate, the ‘son’ of the business name, who had interviewed her, had obviously fancied her. She had a feeling that she could wrap him around her little finger. However, it wasn’t Chris who greeted her as she stepped through the doors, but an older man. Kim guessed immediately that this was Chris’s father. Like his son, he had a pleasantly handsome, smiling face and brown curling hair.

”Kim Barker?” asked the man, holding out his hand to shake. “Frank Tate. Pleased to meet you. Is it alright if I call you Kim?”

”Of course,” said Kim politely, returning the firm handshake.

”Step this way.” Frank showed her into his office. It was a spacious room with three desks, one of which had a telephone on the surface. “I can see what Chris meant,” Frank said, glancing over his shoulder at Kim. “You’re much better-looking than my last secretary. Oh, don’t worry,” he added, seeing Kim’s forced smile. “I’m a happily married man. I can’t say the same for my son, though.” He pointed to a photograph on his desk of two young people. Kim recognised Chris from her interview. In the photo he had his arm around a very pretty teenage girl with long black hair and braces.

”Is that your daughter?” Kim asked.

”Yes, that’s Zoe. She’s got no interest in the family business, of course. Wants to be a vet, of all things.” Frank raised his eyes heavenwards, but Kim could tell that he didn’t really mind. “At least I’ve got Christopher to carry on the business.”

”You must get on well, working together.”

”Oh, we have our moments. I’m actually thinking of retiring in the next few years, handing the business over to Chris. I’ve got my eye on an estate over in Beckindale.”

Inwardly, Kim felt a surge of resentment towards people who could talk about buying property like they were talking about popping down the shops for some milk. Outwardly she smiled and said, “You hardly look old enough to retire, Frank.”

”Flattery on your first day!” Frank laughed as he held the door open for her. “I can see we’re going to get on well!”

Later that day, after Frank had popped out for lunch, Kim sat at her desk and checked her reflection in her hand mirror. She’d been desperate for work when she started looking, but maybe it had been fate finding this job in particular. She thought of Frank’s none-too-subtle hints that his son was single, and his plans to eventually hand the business over to him. One day, the entire empire would belong to Chris.

Kim touched up her lipstick and smiled to herself as she put the mirror away. Maybe she wouldn’t have to be Kim Barker for much longer.


	2. Chapter 2

_1984_

Kim looked around the Tate family home. The place was full of mourners; Jean Tate had been kindhearted and popular. Kim hadn’t gone to the funeral, feeling it would have been inappropriate, but it would have looked strange if she hadn’t come to the wake. She had been here a few times for dinner with the family, but her and Frank’s clandestine meetings had always taken place at the office or at hotels. Right now Frank was talking sombrely to a group of people. He seemed to have aged years in the last week.

”Kim?” said a voice behind her. Kim turned to see Chris, also looking older and devastated. He bent down to kiss her on the cheek. “Thank you for coming.”

”Of course. Your mother was always kind to me.” Kim looked around. “Where’s Zoe?”

”In her room. She hasn’t stopped crying since it happened.”

”Poor Zoe.” Kim felt an unpleasant squirm of guilt, thinking of the young girl.

”I'd better see how Dad’s doing.” Chris didn’t bother with his usual flirtatious manner as he left Kim standing alone again.

Zoe finally emerged with a tear-stained face just as Kim was thinking of leaving. It felt wrong being here, but seeing the 16-year-old girl standing alone, Kim felt the urge to approach her. “Zoe? I’m so sorry.”

Zoe hugged Kim, which made the older woman feel even more guilty. “Thank you. Mum liked you, she was always saying Dad should invite you over more often...”

Kim looked around for an escape. “I’m sorry Zoe, but I really need to get going. I’ll just say goodbye to your dad...”

She found Frank in the kitchen, staring into space, having shaken off Jean’s friends. “She was always the social one,” he said quietly, hearing Kim approach.

Kim put her hand on Frank’s arm. “I know today must have been terrible.”

”You’ve no idea.” Frank turned to her and unexpectedly wrapped his arms around her. “I have to be strong for the kids. If they knew about us...”

”We don’t have to tell them yet,” Kim assured him. “We’ll give them time to grieve. When we finally do tell them, they’ll be happy that you have someone to look after you.”

”I hope you’re right.” Frank wiped a tear away and kissed Kim softly on the lips. Looking over his shoulder, Kim saw Zoe standing in the kitchen doorway. As Frank turned, seeing his daughter, Zoe turned and ran.

”Zoe!” Frank followed his daughter into the hallway. “It’s not what you think!”

”Chris!” Zoe almost collided with her brother as he came out of the living room, throwing her arms around him.

”Zig?” Chris looked at Frank and Kim. “What’s the matter?”

”They’re having an affair! I saw him, kissing her!” Zoe sobbed as she pressed her face against Chris’s shoulder.

”Is this true?” Chris looked stunned.

”Did you know?” Zoe lifted her head to look at her brother. “You work with them! You must have known!”

”Zoe, I didn’t.” Chris looked at his father. “Because it’s not true, is it?”

”I swear son, nothing happened until after your mother got ill.” Frank looked and sounded exhausted.

”You cheated on Mum? With _that_?” Chris pointed at Kim, seemingly forgetting that he had spent the last couple of years trying to get her into bed.

”Jealous, Christopher?” Kim sneered. Frank gave her a startled look and she lowered her eyes. “I’m sorry,” she muttered.

”You both know how much I loved your mother,” Frank appealed to his children. “But this last year has been hell for me. I needed some comfort. Please don’t deny me this one bit of happiness.”

”What about our happiness?” cried Zoe.

”Get out.” Chris glared at Frank. “Take your whore and leave.”

”You can’t throw me out of my own house, son.”

”If you don’t go now, I’ll tell everyone in there what you’ve done!” Chris threatened. Kim seized Frank’s hand.

”Come on, Frank. Let’s go for a walk.” Kim spoke soothingly.

Frank looked from Kim to Chris and Zoe. “Fine. We’ll talk later.” He headed for the door with Kim, dropping her hand. He looked over his shoulder to see Zoe leaning on Chris before departing with Kim.

...

”I don’t want you to move out.”

Zoe was watching Chris packing up the last of his belongings.

”I can’t stay here with him.” Chris threw his bag over his shoulder. “I’m still in Skipdale. You can come and stay whenever you want.”

”What about Dad?” Chris didn’t reply, just headed downstairs where Frank was standing at the door. Zoe trailed down the stairs behind him.

”Christopher,” Frank attempted to reason with his son again. “Look, you’re 21, I can’t stop you from leaving home. But at least come back to work on Monday.”

”With her there? That gold-digging tart?”

”You’ve always liked Kim. You were the one who hired her.”

”That doesn’t mean I want her to be my new mummy.” Chris turned to Zoe. “See you, Zig.” He hugged his sister and pushed past Frank to leave.

Frank could only watch as his son walked out of the door. Zoe had retreated to her room again. Frank picked up a photograph of his two kids from the table in the hall, Chris looking like his father, with fluffy brown hair and a pleasant smile, Zoe the image of her mother, with dark hair and kind eyes. His family was broken, but despite everything he knew he couldn’t give up Kim. He needed her now more than ever.

Putting down the photo frame, he picked up the nearby telephone and dialled the number he knew off by heart. Kim’s answering machine picked up.

”Kim? I need to see you.” Frank's voice cracked. “Call me when you get this, please.”

He placed the phone back down and walked slowly into the kitchen. He poured himself a large brandy, remembering that there was one other comfort still left to him. He finished the drink quickly and poured himself another one.


	3. Chapter 3

_1986_

Chris let himself into his former home. He was dressed in his best suit, his tie loose around his neck. “Hello?” he called as he shut the front door. There was no reply so he strolled into the kitchen and put the kettle on. There was no sign of his father, Kim or Zoe.

As the kettle boiled he caught sight of a photograph of his mother and father displayed on the window sill. He picked it up and looked at his mother’s face. He felt like he was betraying her just by coming today.

Frank and Kim had opted for a small registry office service, with only Chris and Zoe as witnesses. Chris was glad that they weren’t having a showy wedding and he didn’t think he could have sat through the hypocrisy of a religious ceremony. He and Zoe had reached an uneasy peace with Frank’s new relationship and they were even on civil terms with Kim again, but he still wasn’t looking forward to watching his father exchange vows with another woman.

”Hi,” Zoe greeted him, walking into the kitchen in her bridesmaid dress.

”Hi.” Chris pecked her on the cheek. “You look nice.”

”Thanks, so do you.” Zoe adjusted Chris’s tie. “You should see Kim’s dress.”

”I thought she wasn’t having a big white dress?” Chris asked.

”She’s not, but she still looks stunning.”

”Didn’t think she was your type,” Chris muttered.

”You are going to behave today, aren’t you?” said Zoe anxiously. “For Dad’s sake?”

”Don’t worry, I wouldn’t dream of ruining his big day.”

”Chris!” Frank entered in a suit to rival his son’s. “You’re early.“

”Well, I am best man.” Chris shrugged. “Thought I’d make the effort.”

”Well, it’s appreciated.” Frank turned to his daughter. “Kim’s asking for you. Think she needs some help with her dress.”

”OK.” Zoe gave Chris one last warning look before heading upstairs.

“Kim spent last night here then?” Chris asked his father. “I thought the groom wasn’t supposed to see the bride on the morning of the wedding? Isn’t it bad luck?”

”Oh, Kim doesn’t believe in all that superstitious nonsense,” said Frank dismissively. “You make your own luck.”

”If you say so.” Chris went to pour the tea.

”You never know, you or Zoe might catch the bouquet,” Frank teased. “I’d love to see you both settled down.”

”Zoe’s only 18, give her a chance to meet the right man.”

”Well, what about you?” Frank asked. “You’re not short of lady friends...”

”I don’t think I’m the marrying kind.” Chris sipped his tea. “I’m happy living alone.”

”You can’t play the field forever.”

”Watch me.” Chris smiled mischievously.

Upstairs, Zoe had finished zipping Kim into her dress. The bride was wearing gold, in contrast to Zoe’s silver bridesmaid dress.

”What do you think?” Kim asked, posing in front of the mirror. “Will I do?”

”You look lovely,” Zoe assured her. “You don’t mind, not having the big white dress?”

”Oh, no.” Kim shook her head. “I never wanted a big white wedding. I’m just glad you and Chris could be here.”

”What about your parents?” Zoe asked curiously.

”Both dead.” Kim adjusted her dress at the back. “There’s only my uncle Harry left, and his wife...”

”Oh, I’m sorry.” Zoe thought of her own mother.

Kim hesitated. “I’d like us to be a family, Zoe. You, me, your father and Chris. I know I’ll never replace your mother but...”

”We can be friends,” said Zoe firmly. “I’m glad you’ve made my father happy again.”

”I think Chris still sees me as the harlot who seduced the boss,” Kim confessed.

”Oh, don’t worry about him. He’s here, isn’t he?”

”I do love your father, Zoe.”

”I know you do.” Zoe squeezed Kim’s arms, with a maturity beyond her years. “Today is a fresh start for all of us.”

It was true, Kim thought, as she followed Zoe down the stairs. She did love Frank, in an affectionate sort of way. Marrying a millionaire was too good an opportunity to pass up, she would be mad to turn that down. And she did think that she and Frank could be happy, in their own way. She just hoped that Chris wouldn’t stand in the way.

”Well, look at you.” Frank gazed at Kim as she swept into the kitchen. Chris was also looking at her with a strange expression. It was more like attraction than the contempt he had shown since her affair with Frank had been discovered.

”We all look very smart.” Kim looked around at the other three. “What time shall we leave for the registry office?”

”Someone from Skipdale Cabs will be here in...” Frank checked his watch. “20 minutes.”

”Time for a drink then?” Kim smiled.

”I think so.” Frank went to fetch a bottle of champagne as Chris and Zoe exchanged looks.

”Should you be drinking that, Dad?” Zoe asked carefully. After hitting the bottle following Jean’s death, Frank had sworn off alcohol completely and hadn’t touched a drop for months.

”One glass. Just for a toast.” Frank poured small measures into four glasses and handed them out. “To the Tates.”

”The Tates,” his family echoed as they clinked glasses.

...

”I call upon these persons here present to witness that I, Francis Ronald Tate, do take thee, Kimberley Jane Barker, to be my lawful wedded wife.”

”I call upon these persons here present to witness that I, Kimberley Jane Barker, do take thee, Francis Ronald Tate, to be my lawful wedded husband.”

Chris and Zoe watched as the vows were recited, Chris reluctantly handing over the rings when asked. The rings were exchanged and the registrar pronounced Frank and Kim husband and wife. “You may kiss the bride.” Frank and Kim kissed chastely.

”Why do I feel like he’s just made the biggest mistake of his life?” Chris muttered to Zoe, as Frank and Kim signed the marriage certificate.

”Try to be happy for them, Christopher.”

”It’s alright for you. You’ll be off to university soon. I’m still working with them.” Chris nodded in his father and new stepmother’s direction.

”You could always resign again,” Zoe suggested.

”You don’t think it’s at all suspicious? Kim marrying a man old enough to be her father?”

”Don't tell me you still fancy her...”

”Shut up, Ziggy.”

“Right,” Kim smiled as she walked over to her stepchildren. “Ready to go to lunch? Christopher?”

”Yeah.” Chris nodded without enthusiasm.

”There’s a little surprise for you outside,” Frank murmured as he came to stand next to Kim. “I know we said we’d keep it simple, but since we’re only getting married once...”

They headed outside to discover a long white limousine with “Just Married” spelled out in flowers on the back seat. Even Chris smiled at Kim’s delighted reaction. “You shouldn’t have!” she cried, swatting Frank.

”You’d better throw the bouquet before we go,” her husband advised her.

”Oh...” Kim turned her back to Chris and Zoe and threw her bouquet blindly over her shoulder. At the last moment Zoe ducked out of the way forcing Chris to grab the flowers.

”Who’s the lucky lady?” Zoe laughed.

”Very funny, Zig.”

The limousine driver leaned out of the front seat window. “Kim Barker?” he called to the bride.

”No, Kim Tate!” Kim smiled at Frank as she ran to climb into the back of the car.

...

”There’s something you should know,” Frank said as their plates were cleared away. They were having their reception lunch in a swanky hotel in Hotten.

“What?” Chris paused with a glass of wine to his lips.

”We’re thinking of moving.” Frank looked at Kim. “You know I’ve had my eye on Home Farm in Beckindale for a while. It’s up for sale again.”

”Can you afford it?” Zoe asked.

”Not quite, but I’m going to put an offer in.”

”What about your house?” Chris said. “Mum’s house?”

”It would have to be sold.” Frank looked from Chris to Zoe. “I know we’ve had many happy years there, but you’ve got your own place now, Chris, and Zoe will be going to Edinburgh...”

”What are you going to do with all that land?” Chris asked, not looking pleased.

”Oh, I’ve got all sorts of ideas,” Frank said cryptically. “Of course, you can both come and stay whenever you want...”

”How are you going to look after that huge estate and run the haulage yard?”

”Well, that’s the other thing. I think it’s about time I retired from haulage. I’m handing the business over to you, son.”

Chris’s expression changed and he sat up straighter. “Are you sure?”

”Definitely.”

”Don’t get ahead of yourself, Frank.” Kim put her hand over her husband’s. “What if your offer isn’t accepted?”

”Then my plans will have to be put on hold. But I’m determined to become the owner of Home Farm eventually.”

”What about you?” Chris eyed Kim across the table. “Are you planning to carry on working as secretary for the business?”

”For now.” Kim avoided his gaze.

”If this is what you want, Dad, we’ll support you,” said Zoe.

“Yes,” Chris agreed, still thinking about having sole charge of the business.

”Thank you. Both of you.” Frank squeezed Kim’s hand. “I’m very proud of my family. We’ve been through a lot to get here, but from now on, I see only happiness in our future.”

”Is this a speech?” Chris asked teasingly.

”Yes, it is.” Frank gestured to the waiter for the bill. “Let’s go and have a look around Home Farm.”

”Now?” Kim exclaimed.

”Right now.” Frank reached for his wallet. “You kids are going to love it.”


	4. Chapter 4

_1988_

”What are you doing here?” Chris greeted his father as Frank walked into the office.

“Charming!” exclaimed Frank. “I’m taking Kim out for lunch. You could join us if you wish?”

”I can’t, I’ve got too much to do.” Chris indicated the pile of papers on his desk.

”Well, since I’m here, how are things going?”

”I knew you were here to check up on me,” Chris accused.

”Don't be ridiculous!”

”You’re supposed to be retired. You’re here more than you ever were.”

”Rubbish. I’m just here to see Kim.”

”I don’t know why she’s still here either.” Chris was obviously in a foul mood. “It’s not like she needs to work anymore.”

”Oh, so you want to go through the rigmarole of finding a new secretary?” Frank asked. “Besides,” he added, “she’ll resign once I’m squire at Home Farm.”

”Oh Dad, are you still going on about that pipe dream?” Chris groaned.

”This business started as a pipe dream,” Frank pointed out. “When I started...”

”I know, I know. You started with one truck. Look, I really need to get on with this.”

”You will come over for dinner this Saturday, won’t you?” said Frank, changing the subject. “Zoe’s home for the weekend...”

”I’ll see if I’m free.”

”Might have a better offer, eh?” Frank teased. “Which lovely lady is it this time?”

”See you later, Dad.”

”Don't work too hard.” Frank finally let himself out.

”How did you ever put up with him?” Chris asked the photo of his mother that sat on his desk. There was a tap at the door. “What?” he barked.

The door opened and one of Tate Haulage’s drivers — Joe, John? — stepped into the office.

”Sorry to bother you, Mr Tate,” he said. “I just wanted to ask — the thing is, I’ve got married recently.”

”Congratulations,” said Chris, wondering what this had to do with him.

”Well, the thing is, I’ve booked a holiday for me and my wife, only it clashes with the drive I’m supposed to be doing this weekend.”

”So you want to change it?”

”Well, yeah.”

”What’s your name?” Chris asked.

”Jackie Merrick.”

”You like working for Tate’s, Jackie?”

”Of course.” Jackie looked alarmed. “I mean, it’s not my main job but...”

”So how am I meant to keep employing you if I can’t rely on you?”

”You can, sir. This is just a one off.”

”Well, I can’t find another driver at such short notice.”

”Alright,” said Jackie. “I’ll do it. I just thought I’d ask.”

He turned to leave. He looked so downcast that Chris felt a pang of guilt.

”Jackie?” he called. The driver turned. “I’m sorry. Forget what I just said. Take your wife away.”

”Really?” Jackie bounded back to the desk. “What about the drive?”

”I’ll do it myself. I could do with a trip, stretch my legs...”

”Thanks, Mr Tate.” Jackie practically ran for the door before Chris could change his mind again. “My wife will be delighted!”

”Give her a kiss from me,” Chris muttered as he returned to his paperwork. “I must be going soft.”


	5. Chapter 5

_November 1989_  
  
Chris looked at his watch as the woman in front of him wittered on. This was his third interview of the day. Finding someone to replace Kim was proving harder than he had expected. It was necessary, though, as Kim would soon be Lady of the Manor up at Home Farm with Frank.  
  
"Have you got any secretarial experience?" he asked when he could get a word in.  
  
"Well, no. But I'm a fast learner."  
  
"There's a lot of paperwork involved in running a haulage company, you know."  
  
"Oh, I'm sure. But I could pick it up..."  
  
"Can you type? Take shorthand notes?"  
  
"I'm sure I could, with practice..."  
  
"And what about your commitments outside work?" he asked.  
  
"Well, I've got a daughter. I adopted her last month." She pulled a Polaroid picture out of her handbag. "That's Deborah. Little Debbie. Her birth mother named her, she wanted something biblical..."  
  
"Very nice." Chris barely glanced at the photograph. Children really didn't interest him. "Well, thanks for coming in, Mrs Jones." He got up to show her to the door.  
  
"Miss Jones," she corrected. "Pat."  
  
"Very nice to meet you." He shook her hand and closed the door firmly behind her. Striding back over to his desk, he sat down and crossed Patricia Jones off the list of potential candidates.  
  
...  
  
"Hello?" Chris called as he let himself into Frank's house, his old house, for what would probably be the last time. The hall was full of boxes, no doubt including some of his old stuff. School reports, Christmas decorations that he and Zoe had made. He looked around, soaking up the memories of this place, of him and Zoe playing in the garden, the treehouse that Frank had built, his mother's cooking...  
  
"Hi, Chris!" Kim poked her head out of the kitchen. "Glass of non-alcoholic wine?"  
  
"Please." Chris followed her into the kitchen. "Something smells good."  
  
"Your father's favourite. Do sit down, it's nearly ready."  
  
Chris settled at the kitchen table and was soon joined by Frank. "Hello, son," he greeted him, accepting a glass of wine from Kim. "Glad you could join us."  
  
"Had to see the old place one last time," said Chris. "When is moving day, anyway?"  
  
"In a couple of days, for me. Kim's going to stay here, keep it safe for the new owners, then she and Zoe will join me up at Home Farm over Christmas."  
  
"Can't Zoe look after this place while you and Kim both move into Home Farm?" asked Chris. "I'm sure you can trust her not to blow the place up..."  
  
"She doesn't break up from university for another month."  
  
"How's the hunt for a new secretary?" Kim joined them at the table.  
  
"No one promising yet. Turns out you're hard to replace."  
  
"That almost sounded like a compliment." Kim smiled teasingly. Frank looked pleased to see that his wife and his son were getting on better.  
  
"I can't stay too late," said Chris as Kim topped up his glass. "Got a big sheep delivery tomorrow."  
  
"How's it all going?" said Frank. "I'm only asking!" he added hastily.  
  
"Don't interfere, Frank," Kim warned him, before Chris could display the Tate temper. "Let the boy stand on his own two feet."  
  
"Thanks, Kim." Chris appreciated the support.  
  
"I'm just interested!" Frank exclaimed. "You'll understand when you have sons of your own."  
  
"That'll be some time off," said Chris as Kim went to serve up the dinner. "I like being footloose and fancy free."  
  
"Wait till some pretty blonde catches your eye," replied Frank. Chris glanced over at Kim.  
  
"Anyway, time for a toast," said Frank, as Kim placed the meals in front of them. He lifted his glass. "To success, and to Home Farm."  
  
"Home Farm," echoed Chris and Kim.


	6. Chapter 6

_1972_

"Christopher?"  
  
Chris turned over in his bed to see his sister standing at his bedroom door. "What is it?" he said sleepily.  
  
"Mummy and Daddy are shouting again."  
  
His heart sinking, Chris threw back his Superman duvet, got out of bed and followed his sister to the top of the stairs. They sat on the top step in their pyjamas, listening to their mother's voice:  
  
"... drinking again, you're either at work or with your boxing friends, you never have time for me or the kids..."  
  
Their father's voice answered, in low angry tones. It was impossible to make out what he was saying.  
  
"Why doesn't Mummy want Daddy to have a drink?" Zoe asked her brother, puzzled. "Everyone needs to drink, don't they?" Chris shrugged. There was the sound of breaking glass from the kitchen and Zoe clutched at her brother, her huge dark eyes wide.  
  
"Hey, it's okay." Chris put his arm around his little sister's shoulders. "I've got you, Ziggy." At eight years old, he was twice Zoe's age and twice as tall. He knew that being a big brother meant looking after Zoe at times like this.  
  
"One drink, that's all!"  
  
Frank Tate came storming out of the kitchen. He stopped dead when he saw his two children at the top of the stairs.  
  
"Go back to bed!" he barked and stomped into the lounge.  
  
Jean Tate emerged from the kitchen, looking tearful. She, too, stopped when she saw Chris and Zoe. "Christopher, take your sister back to bed, will you?" she said, in a calmer voice than her husband. "I'll come and see you in a minute."  
  
Chris stood up and held his hand out to Zoe. She took it, standing, and followed her brother up to her bedroom. Chris returned to his own room, ready to put his fingers in his ears for when the shouting resumed downstairs.


	7. Chapter 7

_1990_

"Really hope that's not another wounded animal you're trying to smuggle in, Zoe," warned Kim, as she passed the car where Zoe was attending a wild rabbit that had been caught in some branches.

"Actually, it’s not,” she responded. Something had definitely put Kim in a bad mood.

"Good, because I could really do without having to ask Dolly to remove blood from the floor." She paused. "Unless it’s your father's, of course."

"Ouch." Chris grimaced as he passed Kim. She swept indoors grandly as Chris came striding out.

"What's her problem this morning?"

"Oh, don't ask. Probably Dad going out late again."

"He forgets he's not twenty one anymore." Chris moved around to stand next to his sister, noting her solemn expression. "Are you alright, Zig?"

"I'm fine. Just... bogged down with work, that's all,” Zoe admitted carefully.

"Dad said you were working too hard. You should relax too, you know."

"You sound like Kim," Zoe sighed, carefully unwinding the branch from the nervous creature. "I know I've graduated, but now I've got to find a permanent job."

"Well, anyone would be lucky to have you, Zig." Chris folded his arms, leaning against the car. "Certainly got a way with that."

"A tangled rabbit?" Zoe grimaced. “It’s hardly complex."

"Still, it’s a start. Remember when we were little?" Chris began. "You used to set up a "vet’s" in the lounge, get all the animals and soft toys and line them up to treat them."

"Hmm." Zoe plucked at the stubborn edges of the branch, entwined around the animal.

"Now you're doing it for real. You used to get so cross with me when I interrupted you."

"Hmm-mm." Zoe concentrated on the branches, pulling out some pliers from her pocket. "Right, that should do it." She picked the rabbit up. "Hold her, Chris."

Chris looked slightly nervous, but put on a brave face for the sake of his sister. She gently clipped the offending branches away and released the rabbit successfully.

"There you go." She smiled, stroking it softly. "Go on Chris. It won't bite."

"Thanks, Zoe." Chris held the rabbit away, revealing a small stain on his jacket.

"Oh, well, that's the nature of it, I suppose,” Zoe reasoned, with a smug grin. "Come on." She took the rabbit into her arms. "I'm going to take her into the woods."

"I'm going to the village, unless Dad's got something else for me to do."

"Well, from what I saw, I think you might be in luck. Dad was fast asleep on the sofa."

"Ah, so that's why Kim's in a ‘I shall smite thee’ mood." Chris nodded.

"Chris!" Zoe nudged him.

"No, you're right, Zig. I must hold the fort,” he declared pompously.

"Go on, then. Some of us do have things to do."

"Like saving the planet?" suggested Chris coyly.

"Idiot."

Chris grinned, striding back into the house where Kim was sitting at the table in the kitchen.

"You look awful."

"Thank you, Christopher. Just what every woman wants to hear in the morning,” Kim replied snippily. "I hope you spare Kathy these lovely compliments?"

"Strangely enough, yes." He fetched brown bread from the bread bin and began to make himself a sandwich with the Scottish salmon from the fridge.

"Very classy,” Kim remarked.

"What's up with you and Dad?" Chris asked, sitting down at the table with his plate.

"He went out again last night. Some boxing reunion."

"And he left you behind. My heart bleeds." Chris put his hand on his chest.

"It’s alright for you, I suppose, with Kathy at your beck and call."

"Hardly, but she doesn’t object to me going out drinking with my friends."

”And gambling your money away, I suppose.”

“You make me sound reckless.”

"Because you are, Christopher."

”I’m my father’s son, that’s all.”

”Except your father actually worked for his money.”

”So do I,” Chris protested. “I run Dad’s business for him.”

”But you’ve always got Frank’s fortune to fall back on.”

”And you haven’t?“ Chris scoffed. “From secretary to lady of the manor?”

"Don't be ridiculous."

"I'm not. Merely an observation, although," he took a bite of his sandwich, "it would seem I've touched a nerve."

"I love your father, Christopher, and no amount of ridiculous childish behaviour is going to spoil that. You need to grow up."

"Look who's talking! My dad is almost twenty years older than you."

"And, it doesn't bother him." Kim stood up.

"So why are you so angry with him, then?"

"He's so inconsiderate. Staying out late, drinking heavily. He's been told about that, countless times."

”And I suppose you pressuring him into having another child has nothing to do with him drinking again?”

”Anyone would think you felt threatened by the prospect of another sibling.”

”I’d feel sorry for the child, that’s all. Horses aside, you’re hardly maternal.”

”I’ll be an excellent mother.” Kim glared at him, refusing to rise to the bait.

”That’s if Dad’s vasectomy reversal actually works. If I were him, I might request a paternity test.”

”Just be grateful that there’s nothing to stop you having children,” Kim said coolly. “And will Kathy be gracing us with mini-Christophers soon?”

”Plenty of time for that.”

"Well, I look forward to that day. Have a good morning, Christopher." She smirked, leaving the kitchen.


	8. Chapter 8

_1991_  
  
"Rachel, could I have a word?" Chris asked his teenage receptionist. Rachel Hughes smiled and got up from her desk, following Chris into his office, which Frank had thoughtfully vacated for this purpose.  
  
"I'm not in trouble, am I?" Rachel asked, seeing Chris's uncharacteristically nervous expression.  
  
"No, nothing like that..." Chris gestured to a chair as he paced up and down. "Do have a seat."  
  
Rachel sat, wondering if she was going to be offered a raise or something.  
  
"The thing is..." Chris was still pacing. "I've been talking it over with my father, and we've decided we need a more experienced receptionist."  
  
"Experienced?" Rachel frowned, not understanding. "But I'm getting experience by being here."  
  
"The thing is, my father wants to hire someone more experienced so I'm going to have to let you go, from today. You'll get a full severance package..."  
  
"You're sacking me?" Rachel stared at him.  
  
"This was only ever a temporary job," he reminded her. "You'll be going travelling, or to university or wherever..."  
  
"Not for months yet!"  
  
"Well, now you'll be able to go earlier," said Chris kindly. "I'm really sorry..." He reached for a packet of tissues on his desk as if he thought she might cry.  
  
"Is this because I was late back the other day?" Rachel stood up, pushing her chair back. "Because you said I could take a longer lunch break!"  
  
"No, it's nothing you've done."  
  
"It's because of Frank, isn't it?" Rachel was furious. "He comes back to work and suddenly I don't have a job? I thought you ran this place, not your dad?"  
  
"It was a joint decision." Chris looked sympathetic, but deeply patronising. "I'll write you a good reference..."  
  
"Don't bother," Rachel spat. "You can stuff your job. Joe was right, I should never have started working for the Tates. All you do is walk all over people!"  
  
She stormed out of the office, grabbing her handbag from the reception desk. Chris stepped out of the room and watched her leave the building, her head held high.  
  
"It went well, I take it?" said Frank, who was leaning against the door to the kitchen. Chris glared at him and slammed the office door.


	9. Chapter 9

_30 December 1993_  
  
Chris walked down Main Street, Beckindale. He was back from Skipdale a little earlier than he had planned. He was meant to pick Kathy up from Mill Cottage and then go to meet Zoe in the Woolpack. He looked at his watch. He knew he should go home and see his wife, but things hadn't been right between him and Kathy for a while, not since he had found out that she had known about Kim's affair and hadn't told him.  
  
He hesitated on the corner by the Woolpack. Looking at his watch again, he made a split second decision. He would go to the pub first, have a drink with Zoe and then go and face Kathy. Despite everything he was sure they could work things out. It was Christmas, after all.  
  
...  
  
Back at Mill Cottage, Kathy had finished packing the few belongings she really needed, including the photograph of her wedding to Jackie. Her two husbands couldn't have been more different, really.  
  
She laid the note she had written for her husband on his pillow, the envelope bearing the name "Christopher". It felt a little formal using his full name, but also more meaningful, somehow. She looked around the little cottage, remembering the good times they had had here. Chris carrying her over the threshold on their wedding day, his hopeless attempts at DIY, his determination to fix up the cottage himself even though he could easily have paid someone else to do it. Then she remembered all the lies, the drinking, the gambling, the remortgaging of their home without telling her, just so he could buy out Kim and get one over on his own father. She was doing the right thing.  
  
After one last glance at the note, she picked up her bag and headed for the front door. Josh was waiting for her.  
  
Her new life was about to begin.  
  
...  
  
Up at Home Farm, Frank sat alone, with only Peggy the puppy for company. He looked at Kim's Christmas present, sitting on the table, and sighed. It had been a year since he had discovered her affair and thrown her out on Christmas Day. Now they were officially divorced, and he missed her more than ever.  
  
In his heart, he had forgiven Kim for her infidelity. It hadn't been easy for her, losing the baby and having to deal with Frank's alcoholism. Yet Kim was an independent woman now. She had set up her own stables with the settlement from the divorce, and was using her maiden name again. She didn't need Frank anymore. He had lost her for good.  
  
It would take something major to bring them back together again.  
  
...  
  
Chris strode up to the Woolpack, taking his mobile phone out of his pocket. Perhaps Kathy could come and meet him here. He dialled the number for Mill Cottage, but there was no answer.  
  
As he put his phone away, he became aware of a bright light coming from the sky. It looked like some kind of fireball. The next thing he was aware of was the noise of an explosion and a searing pain in his lower half as the world seemed to cave in on him.


	10. Chapter 10

_June 1995_  
  
"Come on Rachel, you're almost there," urged Kathy.  
  
"I can't," sobbed Rachel.  
  
"The head's out," the midwife informed her, looking up from her position. "Just one more push."  
  
"I'm so tired," Rachel wailed.  
  
"You can do it, Rachel," said Kathy, taking the younger woman's hand. Rachel gripped Kathy's hand tightly, making Kathy wince, then roared as she pushed. The next sound that filled the room was a baby crying as the midwife lifted him, carefully cleaning him and wrapping him in a towel.  
  
"You've done it, Rachel." There were tears on Kathy's face, and she realised they were tears of joy.  
  
"Is it—" Rachel choked. "Are they—"  
  
"It's a boy," the midwife told her, placing the baby in Rachel's arms. "And a healthy one, judging by that racket."  
  
The baby continued to scream as Rachel looked down at his tiny face, his mouth wide open.  
  
"He's beautiful, Rachel," said Kathy, looking at the perfect features, at the wide blue eyes. Chris's eyes. She tore her gaze away, wondering when Frank and Chris would be arriving.  
  
"I can't believe Chris missed it," said Rachel, touching her son's face, awestruck. "I'm glad you were here, though..."  
  
"Believe it or not, so am I." Kathy met Rachel's eyes and knew in that moment that she had forgiven Rachel completely for the affair with Chris, and that they would be friends for life.  
  
"I wish Joe could have seen him." Rachel started to cry again. "And Mark..." Kathy reached out to comfort her.  
  
"Could you give us a moment?" asked the midwife. "I just need to check them both over."  
  
"Of course. I'll be just outside, Rachel."  
  
"Thank you, Kathy."  
  
Kathy nodded and stepped out into the corridor. Frank was running towards the ward, pushing Chris in his wheelchair, Chris's expression questioning.  
  
"It's a boy, Chris," Kathy called, holding the door open for them.  
  
"Well done, son!" Frank clapped Chris on the shoulder. Kathy watched as Frank wheeled Chris into the ward, the door swaying shut behind them. She was clearly no longer needed. She sighed and headed for the lift to take her downstairs to the exit.

...

”Rachel?” Chris wheeled himself up to the hospital bed.

”Chris...” Rachel reached out for her boyfriend.

”I’m so sorry I wasn’t here,” Chris told her, kissing her forehead. Frank came to stand next to his son as they both gazed, spellbound, at the newborn baby.

”Meet your son,” Rachel told Chris.

”He’s...” Chris was lost for words, for once. “Is he OK?”

“For a premature baby, he’s fine,” the midwife assured him.

”My grandson,” Frank beamed. “He looks just like you when you were born,” he told Chris.

”Can I...” Chris reached out and Rachel placed the baby in his arms.

”Chris,” she choked. “Joe’s dead...”

”I know. I’m so sorry.” Chris kissed her again. Frank bowed his head. Although he and Joe Sugden had often nearly come to blows, he knew how close Rachel had been to her stepfather.

”I still can’t believe it.” Rachel started to cry again.

”Focus on the positive,” said Frank, sounding like one of his business speeches. “You’ve got a perfect son.”

”I know. I just wish Joe could have seen him...” Rachel looked around. “Where’s Kathy?”

“I think she just left,” said Chris, looking over his shoulder at the door.

”She stayed with me the whole time. I couldn’t have done it without her.”

”We’ll be sure to thank her,” said Frank. “Now, can I have a hold?”

...

A week later, Kim rubbed her head as baby Joseph continued to scream. She was still furious with Frank for inviting Chris and Rachel to stay with the baby at Home Farm. As good a friend as Joe Sugden had been to her, his namesake was getting on her nerves.

”There, there, Joseph,” Frank soothed his grandson as he carried him into the lounge. Rachel was sleeping upstairs and Chris had gone “for a walk” as he still called it, around the grounds.

”Hello?” Zoe stuck her head around the door.

”Shouldn’t you be at the surgery?” Frank asked.

”Oh, the animals can do without me for one afternoon. I wanted to come and see my nephew.” Zoe smiled as Frank passed the baby to her. She jiggled him for a minute and his cries ceased.

”Thank god for that,” said Kim.

”You shouldn’t neglect the practice, you know,” Frank told Zoe. “I didn’t build up a business by taking afternoons off...”

”Thanks, Dad.” Zoe rolled her eyes. “Some things are more important than work. Joseph won’t be a baby forever, and it’s not like I’ll be having any of my own...” Frank looked away awkwardly; he hadn’t quite come to terms with his daughter’s lesbianism.

”How’s my son?” asked Chris as he wheeled back in.

”He’s gorgeous, Chris,” said Zoe happily.

”Takes after his father,” smiled Chris.

”Let’s hope not,” Kim muttered.

”Ignore Granny Kim,” said Chris. Kim glared at him.

”I’d better go and check on Rachel.” Chris turned, heading for the stairlift. Zoe followed him, still holding Joseph.

”We could always try for another, you know,” Frank said quietly to Kim when they were alone. She looked at him, shocked.

”I told you after the miscarriage. I couldn’t go through that again.”

”It might not be like that this time. If Chris can have a child in his condition...”

”You really want to be a father again? You’re a grandfather now.”

”Yes, and seeing Joseph makes me realise how much I missed, when Chris and Zoe were babies. Zoe’s right, there’s more to life than work.”

”I’ll think about it, Frank.” Kim turned the page of her magazine. Chris and Rachel’s brat had started screaming again. She wished he would shut up.


	11. Chapter 11

_1996_

Chris was typing on his computer when Rachel entered the Mill Cottage sitting room, carrying Joseph in her arms. "What are you doing?" she asked. "You don't have to work today, do you?"  
  
"Typing a letter to Dad's solicitor," Chris replied, his eyes on the screen.  
  
"Why?" Rachel frowned, knowing she wasn't going to like the answer.  
  
"Since Dad refuses to change his will, I'm informing the lawyer of Kim's adultery - her second adultery - and putting in a formal challenge to her claim to Dad's estate."  
  
"Chris..." Rachel sighed. "Your dad's alive and well, unlike Joe."  
  
"What if he dies without changing it? Kim could claim a third of everything that Zoe and I are entitled to."  
  
"Do you know how callous you sound?"  
  
"I'm just being practical." Chris nodded at Joseph. "I'm thinking of his future."  
  
"Chris, it's Saturday." Rachel looked at Joseph, who was stirring. "Look, why don't we go for a swim? We haven't done that for ages. We can take Joseph..."  
  
"Rachel." Chris turned his chair around so he was facing his wife and son. "I'm trying to protect my father's fortune from the wicked witch of the east. I haven't got time for water sports."  
  
"Fine," said Rachel, stung. "I'll just take Joseph."  
  
She swept upstairs carrying the baby as Chris turned back to his letter.  
  
He was still in front of the computer when Rachel and Joseph returned a couple of hours later. By now he'd moved on to doing paperwork for Home Farm Estates. He looked around as Rachel entered, her hair still damp.  
  
"How was it?" he asked.  
  
"Great." Rachel settled Joseph in his high chair. "Joseph loved it."  
  
Chris felt a pang of regret that he had missed his son's first time in the water. "I'll come next time."  
  
"Good." Rachel walked into the kitchen, where everything was at ground level. "I'll just give Joseph his lunch."  
  
Chris looked at the baby in his high chair. His son's big blue eyes seemed to stare reproachfully back at him.  
  
"Don't you start," Chris told Joseph sternly, then turned back to his paperwork.

...  
  
"I could kill my brother sometimes," Zoe announced as she swept into Smithy Cottage.  
  
"Why, what's he done?" asked Emma, who was stirring pasta for dinner.  
  
"Oh, this obsession with Dad, Kim and his inheritance." Zoe rolled her eyes. "He was up at the surgery today ranting about Kim trying to destroy him."  
  
"I suppose it's difficult for him, with the wheelchair and everything..." Emma handed her a glass of wine.  
  
"No, he was always like that." Zoe took a large swig. "I'm not saying it's easy, but he's got Rachel and Joseph. He's going to drive them away if he's not careful."  
  
"Well, forget about your family for tonight." Emma smiled as she pulled Zoe closer to her. "We need to start planning our wedding."  
  
"Blessing, you mean." Zoe smiled.  
  
"As far as I'm concerned, we'll be wife and wife." Emma kissed her.  
  
"I am worried about Dad, you know," said Zoe as they embraced. "All this business with Kim. I'm afraid he might start drinking again."  
  
"Look who's talking."  
  
"I'm serious." Zoe put down the glass of wine.  
  
"So am I. Let's just have one evening where we don't talk about Frank, Kim or Chris. Deal?"  
  
"Deal." Zoe watched Emma return to the meal and allowed herself a smile. They had been through a lot to get here, dealing with the disapproval of the villagers, bricks through the window, local teenagers like Scott Windsor with their badly spelled graffiti. If her family were determined to destroy each other, the least she could do for herself was try to be happy with Emma.


	12. Chapter 12

_December 1963_  
  
"You have a son, Mr Tate."  
  
Frank edged his way into the room as his wife beamed at him, holding the baby in her arms. He nodded at the midwife and she departed, leaving the new parents alone.  
  
"A son," said Frank fondly, looking at the tiny bundle in Jean's arms. "May I?"  
  
"You may." Jean handed the baby over to his father.  
  
"My first born." Frank stroked the little boy's head. "An heir, at last."  
  
"You need not fear the Tate lineage dying out," Jean teased him, her blue eyes dancing.  
  
"And how are you, my love?" Frank asked.  
  
"Oh, fine. It wasn't nearly as terrible as I expected."  
  
"You had a relatively smooth birth, for a first child."  
  
"I can’t say the same about the pregnancy," Jean sighed. "Thank heavens for no more morning sickness."  
  
Frank was still captivated by his son. "Do we have a name for this handsome chap?"  
  
"I thought perhaps Christopher, after my grandfather," said Jean pensively. "Unless you wished to call him Francis Junior?"  
  
"I think Francis will suffice as a middle name." Frank stroked the baby's cheek. "Christopher is a more modern first name."  
  
"Christopher Francis does have a ring to it." Jean smiled.  
  
"Christopher Francis Tate," Frank repeated. "I'm sure he will be the finest son anyone could hope for."  
  
"Don't pressure him, Frank," Jean warned. "He's only just been born. You must allow him to be himself."  
  
"Yes, milady." Frank smiled mischievously. "And surely he will have brothers and sisters soon."  
  
"It's a little early to think about that."  
  
"Surely you want Christopher to have a playmate."  
  
"Certainly, but let us wait a few years."  
  
Frank watched as Christopher wrapped his finger around his father's. "Until then, Christopher and I will be the best of friends."  
  
...  
  
_September 1996_  
  
Rachel found Chris in the kitchen pouring himself another drink. "What are you doing? We're meant to be going to see the baby."  
  
"Why would I want to see Kim's spawn?"  
  
"He's your little brother."  
  
"'Brother'," Chris sneered. "The child could have been fathered by the local farmhand."  
  
"It's Frank's name on the birth certificate."  
  
Chris snorted. "You know he's given him the middle name Francis? He may as well have called him Christopher."  
  
"You're being ridiculous."  
  
"Easy for you to say, you're not the one being replaced."  
  
"James is not a replacement! He's a new member of the family, someone for your son to play with."  
  
"His 'uncle'." Chris took a long sip. "Everyone knows that Glover could be the father. Dad's making us all look like idiots."  
  
"Who cares what the village thinks?" Rachel was rapidly losing patience. "You can't spend your life worrying about what Frank does. You've got your own family now."  
  
"It's Joseph I'm thinking of. You really want him to have to share his inheritance with Kim's bastard offspring?"  
  
"I don't care about your dad's money," Rachel snapped. "You could show a bit of sympathy towards Kim. Her baby nearly died."  
  
"Don't tell me you believe in Kim the doting mother. She as good as sold James before he was born. She only named Dad as the father because he paid her to."  
  
"Be that as it may, James is innocent. He needs his family."  
  
"Oh, he won't want for attention. Not now Dad has the son he's always wanted."  
  
"Oh, grow up, Christopher." Rachel left her husband staring bitterly into his whisky glass.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some of the dialogue in this chapter is from the episode aired 19/01/1999.

_1982_

"Kim Barker?"

Kim stood up as the young man approached her, holding out his hand. "Christopher Tate. Pleased to meet you." He looked her over appreciatively.

"You too." Kim nodded at the receptionist on the front desk as she followed Christopher into the office with "Frank Tate" in large letters on the door.

"Do sit down," said Christopher, gesturing. He was tall, handsome, with sparkling blue eyes. He couldn't have been much older than 18. "Can I get you a coffee?"

"Just water, please."

Christopher poured her a glass from the jug on his desk and handed it to her before sitting down. "So, Miss Barker."

"Oh, Kim please." She smiled.

"Chris." He smiled back pleasantly. "I see that you have a rather varied work experience..."

She filled in him on the jobs she'd had since leaving school, including her brief stint in her mother's hair salon and the time she had spent calling bingo numbers.

"So why do you want this job?"

"Well, I'm trained in secretarial work," she said promptly. "It would be good to put those skills to use..."

"There's a lot of shorthand involved. Running a haulage company, there's plenty of paperwork."

"I'm sure there is."

"Is there anything you'd like to know about the business?"

"Would I be working mainly for you or Mr Frank Tate?"

"Both of us," said Chris. "My father and I run the business together. He started the business, on his own, with one truck..." It sounded like he knew this story off by heart. "But he's getting a bit long in the tooth for it all," he concluded. "He wants to hand it all over to me eventually." There was a note of pride in his voice. Kim thought that if she stroked his ego enough the job was hers.

"You're obviously quite the businessman yourself," she said. Chris smiled and straightened his tie.

When the interview was over he showed her out, thanking her and shaking her hand again. "I'll be in touch personally soon," he said, looking into her eyes. She smiled to herself as she began the descent down the stairs. Hook, line and sinker.

...

_1999_

"Where is it?" Kim demanded as she rifled through the drawers at Home Farm. Christopher had hidden the key to the drawer containing the cash he had stolen from her. She had thought it was clever, hiding the proceeds of the horse robbery at Frank's grave, but Chris had guessed her secret.

Now Chris could only mumble confusedly, his head slumped to the side. Kim had hit him with the paperweight pretty hard.

"Where is the key?" she asked again, grabbing him by the shoulders. When he didn't answer she pulled him out of his wheelchair. He was heavy, but slumped to the floor with no resistance. She pushed the chair out of the way, behind the sofa.

"Do you want me to leave you there?" she asked, crouching down, sounding irritated rather than threatening. "Don't you think I would? Well, I'll tell you a secret. You were right all along about Frank. I was here when he died. And I left him, too. It was a heart attack. I didn't have to do a thing. That's the one good point about being married to an alcoholic. They don't fight back."

Chris stared at the woman he had been kissing minutes ago. "No," he whispered. Much as he had always suspected Kim of having a hand in his father's death, knowing that Frank had died helpless and at Kim's mercy was too much to bear.

"I just left him to it. It was sad really." She sighed. "Poor old Frank died of fright, right in front of me. Right where you are now." She laughed.

"Please, help me."

"The key," she demanded again, looking completely evil.

"The whisky," he managed. Kim turned and saw the half-empty bottle of whisky on the coffee table. The key had sunk to the bottom.

"How appropriate," she chuckled as she poured the contents of the bottle into a glass and picked the key out. "Just like your father. He thought that the key to life was in the bottom of a bottle."

She unlocked the drawer and took out the wad of cash. Emptying the wastepaper bin under the desk, she took the bag out and stashed the cash inside. "You really shouldn't leave cash lying around the house." She looked around. "Nearly forgot." She unplugged the phone on the desk.

"Please, Kim, help me," he pleaded.

She looked at him without compassion. He had tried to blackmail her into handing over her son. He would have taken everything from her if he could. She shrugged her jacket on, picked up her mobile and headed for the door, turning to look back at her stepson.

"You know, I'll miss you." She meant it, they were two of a kind. Under different circumstances, they could have made a formidable team. "It's been fun." She thought of something. "I'll tell you what. There is one thing I can do for you that I couldn't do for Frank." She picked up the glass of whisky and poured it over his face as he choked. "Here. This one's on me." She gave him a little finger wave. "Bye, Chris."

Once she was gone, Chris seized hold of the fibres of the carpet and began dragging himself towards the door. He was still confused from his head injury, but he knew that Kim was leaving, that she had killed his father and she was taking James, his brother. He managed to drag himself out of the house, along the patio, wincing as he did so. He could hear the whirring of a helicopter and see the vehicle itself lifting off from the Home Farm grounds and taking Kim with it.

Before he lost consciousness, he just had time to register that he had let his father down once again. Kim had won.

It was over.

Kim smiled to herself as she looked out of the helicopter window. Chris was slumped on the ground below, clearly unconscious. She had to admire his resilience in making it that far.

"Wave goodbye to your big brother, Jamie," she said aloud to her son. The little blond boy on her lap remained oblivious to what was going on. He would never have to know the power struggles that came with being a Tate. He would never know his father, his much older brother and sister or his older nephew.

The helicopter soared over the village formerly known as Beckindale, taking Kim and James away to their new life, far from all the insignificant people below.


	14. Chapter 14

_November 1999_

Zoe awoke slowly, feeling groggy and uncomfortable. She was leaning on something soft, which she became aware was her brother's shoulder. Chris was fast asleep, his arm still chained to the wall by Liam.

For a moment Zoe stared at her brother's formerly handsome face. He was now deathly pale and almost unrecognisable behind the beard he had grown in the last couple of months. He looked peaceful as he slept, however. She was reluctant to wake him, but she could hear Liam moving around upstairs and was scared he might come down.

"Chris?" She shook him tentatively. Chris stirred and opened his eyes.

"Zoe?" he said thickly. He shook his head as if it clear it. "I thought I'd dreamed you being here..."

"One of us should stay awake." Zoe glanced in the direction of the stairs. "We can take it in turns to sleep."

"He's not going to kill us in our sleep, Zoe," Chris said wearily.

"You trust him?"

"I've had to." Chris turned his head to look at her, his blue eyes meeting her huge dark ones.

"All this brother stuff..."

"I've seen proof, Zoe." Chris closed his eyes again.

"What proof?"

"Photographs, of his mum with our dad..."

"That doesn't prove that Dad was his father."

"What else do you think all this is about?"

There was no point in arguing. Liam was obviously unhinged. He might well believe that Frank Tate was his father, and Chris had been down in this cellar for so long he had come to believe it too.

"How are we going to get out of here?" she asked instead.

"Let me talk to him. I can reason with him." Chris coughed his hacking cough again.

Zoe scoffed. Her brother was clearly brainwashed. He didn't seem to understand what Liam had done, not just to Chris and Zoe but to Joseph as well. The little boy had already lost his mother. Since his daddy had disappeared as well, Joseph had been unusually quiet and clingy with Zoe. Right now, she felt that she could kill Liam, even if his story about Frank abandoning his mother was true.

"He's dangerous, Chris."

"He's not an animal, Zoe," Chris said firmly. "He's just like you or me."

"A Tate?"

"A human being." There was creaking upstairs. It sounded like Liam was pacing, deciding what to do with his hostages.

"You sleep," said Chris finally. "I'll talk to him if he comes down."

Zoe slumped back against the wall and closed her eyes, but she didn't let herself fall asleep again.


	15. Chapter 15

_2001_

"Well, hello there."

Chris looked up from his paperwork to see Charity Dingle standing in the living room doorway, one hand on her hip.

"What are you doing here?"

"The back door was unlocked," she purred, walking over and sitting on his desk. "You should be more careful."

"We don't have an appointment," Chris reminded her as she draped her arms around his shoulders. "Joseph's upstairs."

"Well, I'm sure we can keep the noise down." She leaned in for a kiss but he pulled back.

"This is a business arrangement, remember? I say when you can come here."

She sighed and dropped her arms. "Alright, if you must know I came to warn you. I was just gonna soften you up first."

"Warn me of what?"

"It's our Cain." She shifted on the desk. "He knows about us."

"So?"

Charity raised her eyebrows. "So? My cousin's a psycho. Aren't you worried about what he might do?"

"Not really. It's not like he can cripple me, is it?" He shrugged, gesturing to his wheelchair.

"He's not too happy with me either."

"That's your problem."

"Fine, if that's how you feel." She slid off the desk and headed for the door.

"Wait." She turned. "Now that you're here, you may as well stay."

"Not sure if I want to now." She pouted.

"I'm sure I can offer an incentive." He pulled his wallet out of his jacket pocket and laid it on the desk.

She walked towards him slowly, coming to sit on his lap. "It really is all business with you, in't it?"

"Is that a problem?"

"No. Not for me." She leaned in to kiss him again and this time he let her.

They were interrupted by a loud bang as the back door swung open again. There were footsteps in the hall and Cain Dingle came stomping in. He stopped when he saw Chris and Charity, his face absolutely livid.

"You tart," he hissed at Charity.

"Can I help you?" said Chris politely.

Cain took a step towards them. "How can you be with him?" he said to Charity. "He killed our Butch."

"Your brother’s death was a tragic accident," said Chris.

"Caused by one of your trucks!"

"The inquest found that I wasn't responsible."

"Yeah, cause you paid them off!"

"Slander and breaking and entering." Chris almost seemed to be enjoying himself. "The police will be pleased."

"Cain." Charity stood up, coming to face her cousin. "It's just business, alright?"

"I always knew you were a tart," he sneered. "I didn't think you'd lower yourself to sleep with the likes of him."

"If I didn't know better, I'd say you were jealous," said Chris.

Cain pushed Charity aside, grabbing Chris by his collar and pulling him out of his wheelchair.

"You think you're so clever, don't you?" he snarled, bending down as Chris slumped to the floor.

"Cleverer than you, by the looks of it. I pay for very expensive CCTV, you know."

"Cain, don't!" Charity pleaded.

"Looks like we can add assault to the charges. And with your record, too," Chris taunted. Cain put his boot across Chris's chest.

"Daddy!"

A small voice came from the doorway. Joseph was standing there in his pyjamas, looking from Charity to his father and Cain, a stricken expression on his face.

Cain slowly stepped back from Chris, a memory of seeing Shadrach attacking his mother intruding.

For a moment no one spoke. Then Chris said calmly, "Charity, take Joseph back to bed, will you?"

"Come on, Joseph," Charity said to the little boy, trying to sound motherly.

"It's okay, Joseph," said Chris, pushing himself into a sitting position. "I'll come and see you in a minute."

As Charity led Joseph upstairs, Cain bent down and hissed, "This isn't over."

"Get out before the police get here."

Cain stormed out of the living room, leaving Chris alone. At last Chris allowed his fear to show, breathing out slowly as he reached out for his chair.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some of the dialogue in this chapter is from the episode aired 05/07/2002.

_1978_  
  
"Daddy promised he would be here." Zoe looked around hopefully as she stood in the lobby with her mother and Chris, awaiting the announcement to enter the auditorium for the Grand Theatre's production of West Side Story.  
  
Jean Tate sighed and checked her watch, inwardly fuming at her husband for his lackadaisical approach to punctuality.  
  
Beside her, Christopher was becoming restless, pacing up and down and stopping every so often to check out the usherettes who were heading upstairs.  
  
"Christopher, come here and stand with your sister." Jean beckoned him over. "That’s it, thank you."  
  
"Daddy will be here, won't he?" Zoe jerked her head towards her mother, wide eyed.  
  
"Of course he will. He won't miss this!" Jean assured her, cupping her face. For Christopher it was nothing unusual. He knew that things were bad between his parents, for one thing, the door to the spare room was always closed when he got up in the mornings.  
  
Zoe, he decided, had either turned a blind eye or simply refused to notice. His money, had he not spent it on a certain magazine, would have been on the latter.  
  
He thought about sneaking away to peruse it, feigning that he needed the toilet, but whilst Jean Tate was kind and compassionate, she was also tough and wise to her son's antics.  
  
"Oh, Zoe, darling, don't cry. Your father will be here. He will. He's just stuck in traffic."  
  
"Or drunk," Christopher muttered.  
  
"He's paid for a box, did I tell you? The business is doing so well, he wanted to treat us. So you see, he won't miss it."  
  
A loud, off key baritone came from outside and Frank stumbled slightly through the door of the lobby, his eyes bloodshot.  
  
Jean plastered on her best smile and went to greet him, paying no attention to the strange looks that were directed at them.  
  
"You see, Zoe, Christopher."  
  
"I see alright. He's drunk." Christopher looked over his father, putting his arm around Zoe.  
  
"Take your sister through to the auditorium, please, Christopher,” his mother advised, handing him the tickets. "I'll just get things sorted."  
  
"What's wrong with Daddy?" Zoe asked, swinging her long dark hair around her shoulders.  
  
Christopher hesitated, unsure whether or not to tell Zoe the truth.  
  
"Nothing's wrong with me," insisted Frank, "my little princess. Give your old Dad a hug?"  
  
"Frank, you're making a scene,” Jean hissed.  
  
"I am not. I am seeing my little princess and my big strong lad." He slapped Christopher on the shoulder. "One day you will know why..."  
  
"Ladies and gentlemen, please take your seats for tonight's performance," the loudspeaker announced and Frank swayed to look over his shoulder.  
  
"Programmes. Will buy programmes. F-f-four please," he asked of the usher.  
  
"Two will be fine," Jean corrected.  
  
"Is he alright?" the usher asked her, regarding Frank.  
  
"Oh yes, quite fine." Jean kept her smile, accepting the programmes. "Thank you. Christopher, one for you and Zoe."  
  
Zoe took it eagerly, flicking through to see whether she could find any photos. The text was boring for her.  
  
"Christopher." Jean gestured upstairs.  
  
"Come on, Zig, let’s go and find our seats?" he suggested, leading his sister away just as Frank lost his balance, stumbling against the banister.  
  
"Frank, please pull yourself together, please. For Chris and Zoe," Jean pleaded.  
  
"I need a drink."  
  
"No, you don't. I'm going to get you some water."  
  
Inside their theatre box, Zoe and Chris were seated, ready to watch the performance, however Zoe could not settle. She kept shuffling in her seat, dragging her patent black shoes across the carpet, twisting her fingers.  
  
"Zig, can't you sit still?" Chris sighed impatiently, dragging his magazine from his school bag.  
  
"Mummy said you weren't allowed to read that," Zoe observed cannily. "Can I see?" She leaned over the arm.  
  
"No you can't!" Chris swatted at her.  
  
"I'll tell," Zoe warned him.  
  
"Think Mum’s got higher priorities than me reading this right now," he muttered.  
  
"Why don't you play with me any more?" Zoe asked, her eyes wide and pitiful. "Don’t you like me?"  
  
"Course I do, Zig." He noticed that she was still looking at the magazine rather than at him.  
  
"Then why are you always in such a mood?"  
  
Christopher rolled his eyes.  
  
"It’s not that I don't like you, Zig, course I do, but you know, I want to do things on my own."  
  
Zoe looked downcast.  
  
"But I'm always here for you," Christopher added quickly.  
  
Zoe leaned her head on his shoulder.  
  
"Zoe, can you... doesn't matter." He sighed deeply, as the orchestra began to tune in.  
  
"Come on, Frank!" Jean urged, helping him up the stairs to the corridor.  
  
"Just through here," an usherette directed, holding back the curtain.  
  
"Thank you." Jean held tight to her husband, practically dragging him through to the box, where she found her children sitting obediently.  
  
"Everything alright?" Christopher mouthed to his mother.  
  
"Hmm," Jean answered, planting Frank into his seat. "I've brought some Spangles. Ask Zoe if she would like one." She held out the packet to her son.  
  
Christopher peered at his father before taking the packet and offering the sweets to his sister.  
  
The musical began, its score rousing and thrilling. Zoe leaned forward in her seat, her hand around the guard rail, totally immersed in the action, whilst Christopher thought only of the magazine that he had stuffed hastily between the seats. Musicals weren't really his thing at all, but it was a family night out.  
  
He knew the story immediately. Romeo and Juliet. He rolled his eyes and folded his arms, slouching.  
  
Behind him, Frank had fallen asleep and Jean was doing her best to concentrate on the show, yet her face betrayed anxiety.  
  
The story continued, through the excellent choreography of the Dance at the Gym and then Tony made his impassioned declaration of love for Maria through his haunting song.  
  
"Silly thing to do," Christopher scoffed.  
  
"Ssh," hissed his sister.  
  
Tony then made a daring attempt to impress Maria by climbing up to see her, to sing in an operatic duet of "Tonight."  
  
"Oh come off it."  
  
"Hush, Christopher," reprimanded his mother.  
  
"How much more of this is there?"  
  
"Quite a lot," his mother admitted, handing him the Spangles again.  
  
"Thanks." He glanced at Frank. "He’s out for the count, isn't he?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
Christopher shook his head.  
  
"Surprised he can sleep through it. I keep expecting the glass to shatter in the lights."  
  
"Christopher. Zoe is enjoying it, isn't she?"  
  
Christopher looked at his little sister, who was completely captivated.

The ballads gave way to the stirring and feisty "America" and Zoe clapped along, smiling at Christopher and laughing at the lyrics.  
  
"I'll have my own washing machine! Mummy, you have one!"  
  
"I do, shush now." Jean patted her shoulder kindly.  
  
"It’s so colourful!" Her eyes were bright, almost oversized.  
  
Christopher let her have another few sweets from the packet, the musical continuing with more singing and a makeshift wedding which brought tears to Jean's eyes as she recalled her own.  
  
"With this ring, I thee wed," Tony and Maria declared and so they were married.  
  
Jean's eyes drifted to the man next to her. He was sleeping soundly, his best situation in recent weeks. She shook her head sadly, reaching out to gently meet his fingertips.  
  
Whatever happened, she would always love him. It had been a wrench for him to give up his old lifestyle and she certainly didn't want him to feel stifled but he did have a responsibility to her and to their children. Zoe, the apple of his eye, Christopher his strapping miniature version.  
  
"I Feel Pretty" was the next song and Zoe quickly declared it her favourite. The actress' dress was indeed so beautiful and Zoe loved the melody.  
  
She swayed along to the music, wanting to join them on stage. Could she do that _and_ do something with animals?  
  
Her wonderings were interrupted by "Gee, Officer Krupke" and her eyes wandered to Christopher, as it sounded like his pleas to the headmaster at school. It was the one song that stirred any interest from Christopher, who sat up to listen properly.  
  
Yep, that was him. Not the social disease part, though. That he was definitely going to avoid, he'd set his mind on that.  
  
Jean moved to the seat next to Zoe, holding her tight as the music turned dark, threatening, Maria protesting Tony's innocence.  
  
"Oh no!" Zoe whispered. "No!”  
  
"Shush, darling. Ssh. Everything will sort itself out,” she insisted, knowing the ending would be tough on her daughter.  
  
The gentle soprano tone fluttered through the auditorium, enchanting the audience, casting its spell, yet Christopher was averse to it, his eyes on his father, wondering what would happen when he woke up.  
  
Then came the song that Jean adored.  
  
"Somewhere," she breathed, singing softly, "we'll find a way of forgiving, somewhere."  
  
Zoe nestled into her shoulder, comforted by the sound of her mother's gentle voice.  
  
The musical came to its inevitable end and the audience stood to confirm their appreciation for the entertainment. Zoe clapped enthusiastically, Christopher showing little interest but nevertheless clapping along with some encouragement.  
  
"Frank." Jean shook his shoulder.  
  
"What?" His voice was dry, gruff.  
  
"Time to go home," Jean advised.  
  
"I've missed it?" He sounded genuinely regretful.  
  
"Not to worry, Frank. Come on, Christopher, Zoe." She ushered her children out.  
  
Frank sat with his head in his hands, fully sobered, but with a pounding headache, and dragged himself after his family, meeting them downstairs in the lobby.  
  
"What can I do? I am so sorry."  
  
"Christopher, can you collect yours and Zoe's coats from the cloakroom?" The token dispensed to her son, Jean moved to the stairs.  
  
"Jean, I am sorry, really, I am. I just happened to meet Archie after work and well..."  
  
"Give your excuses to Zoe and Christopher, not me," Jean told him evenly.  
  
"I'm a fool. I know that. Look at me, please, Jean," Frank begged.  
  
"I can't. Come on, I’m driving us back. If Christopher and Zoe weren’t here I’d let you make your own way home."  
  
"Archie has got me another truck," Frank explained as they headed for the exit doors. "I didn't want to tell you until I was certain, but Tate Haulage is on the up."  
  
"Good."  
  
"Good? Jean, we're doing well, in this climate that's remarkable, it really is!"  
  
"Time to go home." Jean noticed her son standing with his sister by the exit, all dressed up in their expensive coats. Zoe also had on a little Russian style hat and mittens.

They walked to the car, Frank still a little unsteady as he got into the passenger side. Jean started the engine as the kids climbed into the back.

”Budge up,” Christopher complained as Zoe searched for her seatbelt. “I can hardly move here.”

”That’s because you’re putting on weight again, Fatso.”

”Shut up, Skinny,” said Christopher half-heartedly. He couldn’t bring himself to ruin Zoe’s night.

”That was fun, wasn’t it kids?” Frank turned around from his seat.

”How would you know? You slept through it all,” Christopher muttered.

”Nonsense. I heard all the songs.” Frank lowered his voice to a baritone. “I feel pretty, oh so pretty...”

Zoe joined in enthusiastically, eventually accompanied by Jean and even Christopher.

”I feel pretty, and witty, and bright...”

...

_2002_

“And I pity, any girl who isn’t me, tonight...”  
  
Chris watched as Zoe paced up and down in the tiny room. He could remember the show Zoe was talking about. Of course, she didn't remember that Frank had turned up late and drunk. She only remembered the happy family occasion, the singing at the tops of their voices in the car. She was back there now, singing away, oblivious to her surroundings.  
  
"She's schizophrenic, isn't she?" he said quietly. He'd watched Zoe unravel since killing Liam, but it was only now, seeing her through the professionals' eyes, that he could admit it to himself.  
  
"I can't make any kind of diagnosis based on one short interview," said the doctor.  
  
"Poor sweet Zoe." Chris remembered the day his sister had learned to walk, watching jealously as Frank and Jean had made a huge fuss over her steps, his piano playing ignored. "Well, you'd better sign your wretched forms." He reached out and placed his hand against the glass wall, against Zoe's hand, as she pressed her face against the glass, her eyes closed, still singing softly. His shoulders shook with sobs, Charity in tears at his side, as he prepared to sign his sister's liberty away.


	17. Chapter 17

_2003_

"There now, there now, shh, Jeanie," Zoe whispered, stroking her daughter's red, tear stained face.

"Everything alright?" Chris wheeled himself into the lounge, shutting the door behind him.

"She won't stop crying. I've tried everything," Zoe explained, her hand lingering in the Moses basket.

Chris's blue eyes fell on the paperwork scattered across the desk, the baby bag balanced precariously on the coffee table. It had only been a few weeks, but it was obvious that Zoe was finding it hard to juggle work with the care of Jean.

He had been surprised and touched that Zoe had named her after their mother. She was a beautiful baby, so different to Joseph and James, who were fair. Jean had a cap of jet black hair and striking brown eyes. Zoe's eyes.

"Oh, for goodness sake!" Zoe exclaimed, frustrated at herself, tears stinging her eyes. "What am I doing wrong?" She turned to her brother.

"Hey, come on." Chris took her hand supportively. "It's alright, let's have a look." He wheeled himself to the crib as Zoe collected herself, perched on the arm of the sofa.

"What are you doing, eh?" Chris carefully pulled back the blanket. "Hey, hey, there now, shh," he soothed, his voice gentle, almost a whisper.

"She won't stop," Zoe choked.

"Causing a few problems for your Mummy, aren't you?" He carefully lifted Jean from the crib, nestling her in his arms.

"There we go." He smiled down at her, running his finger across her tiny forehead. "She looks just like you did, Zoe," he murmured, "you were so delicate, so fragile, Dad was afraid to hold you at first."

Zoe sniffed.

"I don't think I can do this, Chris."

"What?" He snapped his head up.

"I can't be her mother. I thought I could, I thought I could be normal—" Zoe admitted, stumbling on her words.

"Hey, yes you can. What's brought all this on?" He carefully navigated around the table to her, Jean still cradled against his other arm.

Zoe swallowed, her eyes glistening with tears.

"Zoe, you're not meant to have all the answers," Chris assured her.

"I should... I should have done the decent thing... I can't manage... not like this." She shook her head.

"Well, then, we'll get you some help," Chris told her decisively. "Look, I know I wasn't very supportive in the beginning..."

Zoe nodded. Chris had been horrified when they had found out that his sister was pregnant. They still had no idea who the father was, as Zoe had no memory of her conception. Of course, Chris had fallen in love with his baby niece at first sight.

"But, you know, I quite like being an Uncle. Gives me relevance."

"You've got Joseph," Zoe reminded him.

"Yes." Chris looked at Jean, tracing each little dimple in her face. "And now you've got Jean."

Jean started to stir and Zoe's face paled, looking terrified.

"Cheer up, sleepy Jean," Chris murmured, almost in song, "oh what can it mean..."

"Dad used to sing that to Mum, do you remember?" Zoe asked.

Chris nodded.

"She'd be so proud of you, Zoe," he told her, as Jean reached out a chubby little hand to grasp his finger.

Zoe offered a weak smile, trying not to cry.

"Do you want me to get you some help? A nanny, I mean?" Chris queried.

"I don't know what to do. What I want," Zoe confided quietly, her eyes glassy.

"Well, if there's anything I can do..."

"I don't want to rely on you, Chris. This is my child, my responsibility." She stood up abruptly. "I should know what to do, but I don't!"

"Zoe, no one said it was easy, being a parent."

"I look at her and I see what she could be, away from me." Zoe hesitated. "She deserves better than me."

"Don't you dare say that. Apart from anything else, she's strong. She's a Tate," Chris confirmed.

"We still don't know who her dad is," she muttered.

"It doesn't matter. She's ours."

"I know. But I can't... I can't do this. I can't be Jean's mother."

She made to leave.

"Zoe!" Chris called after her. "Zoe!"

The door closed and Chris exhaled, looking down at baby Jean.

"It's alright. We're going to manage. Because that's what we do," he murmured, "your Mummy's just a bit upset. You really are beautiful, little Jean." Tears filled his eyes as he looked at her innocent face. "Cheer up, sleepy Jean."

Jean stretched slightly, yawning.

"Sleepy Jean. You're a Tate." Chris smiled at her, glancing across at the photo of Jean Tate Senior on the bookcase. "Hope you can see her, Mum."

Baby Jean pursed her lips and blinked, her dark eyes gazing at Chris.

"Hello. Not so sleepy now, then?"

Jean blinked back at him.

Outside the door, Zoe listened.

...

_Six months later_

"Zoe, turn that off, will you?" Chris grumbled as he wheeled himself into the study at Home Farm.

Zoe's hand hesitated over the stereo. The track, Dance with My Father, had only recently been released and however painful it was to listen, given their circumstances, she found herself unable to bring herself to cut it short.

She glanced out of the kitchen window. It was a beautifully bright day. Joseph was home for the summer holidays, and he and Debbie were still fighting out on the patio. Zoe could only imagine how Joseph felt about Charity's daughter moving into Home Farm after he had been sent away to school.

"Zoe!" Chris repeated grumpily and Zoe turned the music down, allowing the merest hint of sound as she consulted her vets' accounts. She was glad to have Paddy onside, it made all the difference.

Yet it was so difficult to concentrate with Jean gurgling beside her, in the high chair. She would stare with her big brown eyes, so innocent, so whimsical with her dainty little expressions.

"What?" Zoe asked her, handing her a toy to play with. "Mummy's trying to concentrate, Jean."

Jean obviously could make no comment on this, but simply picked up the toy, sucking it. Her eyes remained fixed on her mother, however and Zoe turned her head away to avoid her stare.

"Stop it," she told Jean, "stop it, please!"

Chris heard Zoe's wail and wheeled himself back into the study, seeing Zoe's expression.

"She won't stop staring. I'm trying to work!"

"Alright, alright," Chris attempted to dispel the situation, moving himself level with Jean's chair, "alright, come to Uncle Chris."

He managed to manoeuvre himself to remove Jean from her high chair, which had been placed so that he could easily reach it, if need be, and cupped Jean against his arm.

"I'm sorry I can't be her mother right now," Zoe admitted crossly, seeing his frown.

"If you're struggling, you can ask. It's natural."

"No, Chris," Zoe stated darkly, "it's anything but natural. I don't even know how I found myself in this situation in the first place."

"Well, she's here now," her brother reminded her, "and whatever happens, you're going to have to make the best of it. It's what Dad would have wanted."

"Dad wanted a lot of things, Christopher," Zoe snapped, losing her temper, "but what good did it do, in the end?"

Chris looked away.

"I know this is difficult, Zoe."

"No, you don't. You always know what to do," she scorned, throwing down her pen.

"No, I don't," Chris defended, "and getting angry isn't going to change anything."

"I can't do this. I can't run the vets, keep this house and look after her too."

"Hey, hey, it's okay. We'll make it work, alright?" He could see that she was getting worked up, which was never a good sign. "The business is going well, we've got enough. Look, I can speak to Paddy, see if he can take the reins for a bit?"

"I don't need anyone taking the reins, Christopher! I just need a break, from this!" She gestured to Jean, who had stirred and was now crying.

"Okay," Chris relented. "Look, why don't you leave Jean with me and go for a walk around the grounds."

"Can you manage?" Zoe looked at his wheelchair.

"Of course. Just put Jean back in her high chair first." Chris held his niece up.

"Thanks, Chris." Zoe stood up, reaching out to take her daughter.

"And tell Joseph and Debbie to pack it in, will you?" Chris rubbed his temples. "I'm getting a headache."


	18. Chapter 18

_2004_

"How long do we have to stay here?" Joseph asked.

He was under the table in the living room of Home Farm. Next to him, his Aunt Zoe was cradling baby Christopher while Jean sat at her side, sucking her thumb.

"I don't know yet," Zoe whispered anxiously. "We have to be quiet, Joseph."

"Why?"

"Because they're coming. They want to take you all away from me. You don't want that, do you?" Joseph shook his head.

"They want to take Christopher away." Zoe broke into a sob. "They want him to live with Charity. We have to protect him. He's your brother, Joseph."

Joseph looked doubtfully at the baby, who was sleeping peacefully. His brother. But wasn't Charity his mum? And hadn't Charity killed his daddy? His eyes softened as he looked at Jean, chubby and wide-eyed. She looked as scared as him.

"I'm scared, Auntie Zoe."

"It's okay, lovely boy," she soothed him, reaching out to stroke his hair. "We'll be safe soon."

"Zoe?" called a man's voice. Joseph recognised it as the voice of Jean's dad.

"Zoe, I just want to help."

"Go away," Zoe whispered. "Go away, go away."

"Jean? Joseph?" Scott bent down and saw where the family were hidden.

"Leave us alone!" Zoe cried.

"OK, OK." Scott put his hands up. "I just want to make sure Jean's alright."

"She's fine," insisted Zoe. "We're all fine, aren't we?" Joseph nodded. He could hear more footsteps approaching and another voice calling out, that of his hated stepmother.

"Zoe? Where's Noah? Where's—" Charity stopped when she saw the three children huddled with Zoe. "Oh, my god."

"You can't take him! He's mine!" Zoe wailed.

"Zoe..." Scott knelt in front of her. "We just wanna help."

"No! She wants to take my baby." Zoe cradled baby Christopher tightly. "Chris's baby."

"Zoe, you will always be Noah's aunt," Scott began.

"His name is Christopher!"

"If you don't cooperate with the court order, they could take Joseph and Jean away too. Is that what you want?"

"No," she whispered.

"Zoe, you're ill," Charity attempted. "You need help."

Shut up, shut up, Joseph thought.

"At least let Joseph come out here, yeah?" Charity pleaded. "Then we can talk properly." She held out her hand and Joseph took it.

"No, Joseph! Don't go with her!" his aunt cried, but Joseph was scared and wanted to get away.

"There, it's alright," said Charity, hugging Joseph, while Scott continued to try to reason with Zoe.

"I know you only want what's best for Christopher..."

Joseph watched silently as Scott slowly persuaded Zoe to give Jean to him, to come out and hand Noah over to Charity. He didn't know if the baby, whatever he was called, really was his brother, or if Auntie Zoe was just mad, or ill, however they described it. He was certain of one thing though: this was all Charity's fault.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The dialogue in this chapter is from the episodes aired 20/09/05 and 22/09/05.

_2005_

"No second thoughts?" Callum asked Zoe.

"About leaving, or about this place?" Zoe took one last look around Home Farm, Joseph at her side, Jean in her arms.

"Either."

Zoe thought of how Tom King had successfully put Tate Haulage out of business. She remembered Jimmy King's smug expression as she had been forced to sign Home Farm over to his family. She recalled Sadie King's blackmail, her voice taunting her, saying, _"If that revolting creature Scott Windsor had forced himself on me I would definitely have tried to kill him,"_ Joseph looking horrified at these words as Zoe had clutched him protectively to her...

"No," she said, shaking her head. "No looking back." If the Kings wanted Home Farm so badly, they were welcome to it. They had underestimated her though, like most people did. Had they forgotten she was a Tate?

"Are you sure you don't want to come with us?" she asked Callum, putting her arm around Joseph, who was now up to above her shoulder and would soon tower over his aunt. In her other arm, Jean happily chewed a lollipop, oblivious to the drama that surrounded her.

"Nah. Like he said, I'm just a flunky," said Callum, a little bitterly. Scott's words had obviously hurt him.

"You're a real friend," Zoe corrected him. In some ways, Callum had been to her what Terry had been to Chris.

"Good. Let's get you to the airport."

Zoe began to lead the children out, remembering her first Christmas here with Frank, Kim and Chris, how lucky they must have seemed to outsiders...

"I hope Mr King appreciates his housewarming gift," she said with a small smirk. They would soon learn that Home Farm came with a price.

"Are you sure?" Callum gave her one last chance to change her mind.

She nodded. "Yeah."

Downstairs, the gas pipes hissed loudly as the timer began its countdown.

The Kings' car drove onto the Home Farm drive just as Zoe's was pulling out, Callum at the wheel, Zoe behind him with the children. "Stop the car," said Zoe, before they reached the end of the drive.

"What?"

"Just do it, Callum."

Callum reluctantly stopped the car. On the drive, Tom King and two of his sons got out of their own vehicle. Tom appeared to be making some kind of speech as Jimmy and Max exchanged eye-rolls. Finally Tom handed his eldest son the keys to the front door. Jimmy strode up to the house, ready to usher in a new era of Home Farm history.

Suddenly an explosion ripped through the building, blasting all three Kings to their feet. They slowly got up, looking around with dismayed expressions at the ruins of their new home while Zoe watched from a safe distance. Joseph caught sight of his aunt's triumphant expression in the rear-view mirror as Home Farm blazed behind them.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some of the dialogue in this chapter is from the episode aired 08/01/18.

_January 2018_

"Mr Tate?"

Lawrence White greeted the young man standing outside his house. He was surprised to see how young the buyer of Home Farm was. From the size of the offer Joseph Tate had put in, he'd expected someone older.

"Yes. Mr White?" Joe shook the older man's hand. "Pleased to meet you in person. I've got all the paperwork in the car..."

"Excellent." Lawrence followed Joe out to the flashy motor on the drive. The lawyers had already done most of the work. A quick sale had been essential. He read the documents that Joe handed him carefully before signing.

"I was surprised at your generous offer." Lawrence handed Joe the forms. "Not many people your age could afford a place like this..."

"Inherited wealth," Joe clarified. "I started my own business with it, of course..."

"And you'll be moving in with... family?"

Joe hesitated. "It's just me."

Lawrence didn't see why a man in his twenties would want to live on a huge estate by himself, but it was none of his concern.

"What about you?" Joe asked, leaning against the car. "Where will you be moving?"

"We're emigrating. Me, my two daughters and my grandson, Seb..." Lawrence stopped, not wanting to give too much away. If Robert Sugden found out they were taking his son away there would be hell to pay.

Joe nodded. "I emigrated myself once, with my aunt and my cousin. We moved to New Zealand, when I was ten."

"Really?" Lawrence looked at him curiously. "You don't have an accent."

"English boarding schools," he explained. "Anyway, when's the best day for me to move in?"

"Well, we'll be leaving on Thursday," Lawrence said. "Although I'd appreciate your discretion." He hesitated, curiosity getting the better of him. "If you don't mind my asking..."

"I know the place," Joseph explained. "When I was a kid."

"Wow. You won't need the guided tour then?"

"Just the keys and deeds." Joe straightened up.

"Good, okay, well I'll make sure everything's with my solicitor in time. Please, come in." Lawrence gestured to the front door. "Toast your new home."

"Pleasure." Joe turned and scanned the Home Farm land, remembering his childhood here, learning to ride a bike while his dad watched, playing alone in the woods, spending time with his Auntie Zoe. Yes, the Tates had been alright here. Until Charity had come along.

"Feels good to be back," he murmured to himself. A wicked smile spread across his face as he imagined the Dingles finding out who the new owner of Home Farm was. He turned and followed Mr White into his old home.


End file.
